


take my whole life too

by nightlighttuesdays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Canon Related, Castiel In Love, Dean is Not Heterosexual, Dean is Not Oblivious, M/M, Mark of Cain, Protective Castiel, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Sam, Sexual Content, Smut, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Top Castiel, i swear it's happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 12:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3067217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightlighttuesdays/pseuds/nightlighttuesdays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't want no other love, baby it's just you I'm thinkin' of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take my whole life too

Cas sees Dean dancing one day.

The concept itself isn’t strange, and Castiel’s seen Dean dancing before - sometimes with a woman, but more often when Dean thinks he’s alone and he shakes his backside all around the bunker, to Aerosmith or AC/DC or something called a T-Swizzle.

But this is different. Cas has never seen Dean moving like this; there’s an awful lot of hip-popping and crazy leg movement and jazz hands.

Cas is transfixed.

_“You can do anything, just lay off my blue suede shoes.”_

Dean is dancing in the most free sense - it’s not by any stretch great, and very truly should not be so attractive, so _sexual_ , when Cas has seen him moving under the sheets with symmetrical women; but it’s more striking than God’s greatest miracles.

He stands there staring for the longest time, but Dean suddenly whirls around with a shimmy and Cas vanishes in an instant, praying to his deadbeat father that Dean didn’t see him.

...

The next time Cas comes, Sam is sitting in the kitchen, sipping at coffee and reading a scattering of local papers.

“Hello, Sam.”

He looks like he’s been awake for days, but he smiles broadly regardless and stands up, pulling Cas into a hug.

“Good to see you, man. It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Cas agrees, withdrawing from Sam’s bear hug. “And Dean?” A hopeful note worms into his voice, unwarranted.

Sam’s gaze softens into what Dean calls his ‘puppy dog eyes.’

“He has good days and bad days,” Sam says, quietly, like Dean is terribly ill. “He says it’s not bad, but…I mean, he’s alive, and he’s human, and that’s all that matters right now.” He says it stubbornly, a mantra he’s clinging to to keep from going insane.

Cas isn’t sure it’s working, but he nods and pats Sam’s arm anyway, because that’s something he’s seen Dean do and it seems to calm him down.

 

[But Cas is thinking about how Dean taught him to be human and now there’s no one there to teach Dean the same things.]

 

Sam tells him that Dean’s in his room. Cas hears him slump back into the chair as he’s walking away.

Cas hasn’t seen Dean since the ugly, dark part of him vanished. He should have stayed. He’d known that as he walked away, back to the car, back to Hannah. He should have stayed.

 

[And then Hannah went home and Cas realised he doesn’t have a home anymore, and the closest thing he can find is the Winchesters’ arms and that’s what he’s seeking.]

 

When Cas first slips inside Dean’s room, he thinks Dean is asleep. He’s lying on his back with his headphones on. Cas can hear heavy drums pounding at a volume that is most definitely not suitable for human ears.

And then Cas realises that Dean’s eyes are open, fixed on the ceiling like that’s where he’ll find God.

“Dean,” Cas says, but Dean doesn’t respond.

The music is too loud, he realises, and approaches Dean’s bed from the side.

“Dean,” he repeats, this time with an ounce of his old power behind the word. One of the lightbulbs in Dean’s bedside lamp shatters.

Dean jolts upright, nearly knocking his head into Castiel’s. Cas straightens.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Dude, do you not know how to knock?” He pulls off his headphones abruptly.

Cas just blinks. “I’m sorry.” He pauses for a moment. “I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry you had to be alone.” Dean has stopped expecting him to beat around the bush, he thinks.

Dean still looks decidedly uncomfortable, but he lets Cas sit down next to him. “It’s okay. Heaven stuff’s a helluva lot more important than little old me, right?”

Cas winces at the dry laugh that escapes Dean. The smile on his face looks unnatural and Castiel despises the idea of losing Dean once more, when he’s just gotten him back.

“You are the most important thing in the world to me, Dean.”

Dean snorts at that. “Sure, Cas. You like cheeseburgers more’n you like me.” But he says it with a smile that doesn’t hurt so much to look at and Cas allows himself to hope again.

“You love pie more than anything else on the planet, Dean. I think I have the right to enjoy a good burger.”

“Or a hundred,” Dean says, and then they’re laughing. It hadn’t been particularly funny in the moment, but looking back, the apocalypse was tame compared to what they’ve dealt with since.

 

[Castiel wishes he could tell Dean that he’d never eat another burger for the rest of his life if Dean loved him the way Cas loves Dean but he can’t because Dean doesn’t want to understand that loving someone is not always the same thing as needing someone.]

 

“How are you feeling?” Cas says instead, and Dean’s face becomes unreadable again.

“Just fucking dandy.”

“Dean.” Cas is pleading with him, pleading with his eyes, pleading with the way his shoulders cave in because he doesn’t want to be this stranger anymore.

“I was a fucking _demon_ , Cas,” he snarls abruptly. “The fuck do you want from me?”

“I want you to be okay,” Cas says, his voice low and his hand finding a tight grip on Dean’s leg. “I want you to come back.”

“Yeah, because you’re an expert on that.” Dean’s voice is sour, dripping lemon juice. “Coming back. Harder than it looks, huh?”

Cas feels ill, something that hasn’t happened since he borrowed this Grace. He’d promised not to listen to Dean’s mind anymore, but there are some thoughts that can’t be ignored. Castiel opens himself up to it, just for an instant, and what he finds nearly drowns him.

There is so much hate.

There used to be hate, Cas knows - for monsters, for evil, mostly, with quite a bit of self-directed anger, as well, but now there is hate for everything, for everyone; for Cas, for Charlie, for Sam, for Chuck.

“Dude, _hand_.” Dean’s fingers encircle Cas’ wrist, where he’s currently sinking his fingers into Dean’s upper thigh.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel gasps, his fingers digging deeper. It feels like Hell again, like the icy flames of darkness that he fought through to get to Dean. He knows Dean still wakes up screaming sometimes, still sees Alistair’s leer in the shadows at the foot of his bed, and Castiel hurts because that isn’t something he can ever fix; but nobody ever thought about how Castiel burned, too, how his wings fell apart, how his Grace blackened.

Dean stops trying to break Castiel’s grip then, pulls Cas into his chest because Cas is shaking, rending himself apart on the the shores of Hell, the shores of Dean and

                     he

                                  is

                                             drowning.

“Fuck, Cas, _fuck, Cas_.”

“You are not lost,” Cas' voice is shaking, fighting him on every syllable. “Your soul. It’s still...” he reaches out and wraps his fingers in the fabric of Dean’s shirt over his chest. “It’s still here.”

“Cas, I don’t-”

“You will never burn again.”

Cas forces himself to inhale sharply, his chest unknotting slowly as Dean’s eyes blink clear.

“What the fuck was that? Are you okay?” Dean’s concerned face is too close for Cas to lie.

He tries anyway. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“ _Cas_.”

 

[I love you so much, why can’t you love yourself the way I love you, why can’t you help me save you, Dean, please.]

 

“Hell was not a good experience for me,” Castiel says obliquely.

Dean snorts. “No shit, Sherlock, it’s Hell.” He doesn’t let go of Cas, though, and Cas doesn’t move away.

“My wings charred.”

Dean stiffens. “I didn’t think-”

“They healed,” Castiel says quickly, before Dean turns on himself once more. “But I can feel your anger now, and it reminds me of Hell.”

Dean’s weight shifts away from Cas and once more, he isolates himself; but Castiel has seen the pain in Dean's eyes and soul and there is only so much hurt you can fight on your own, only so many breaths you can take feeling like there's no one else breathing in the world. So he shifts his weight too, wraps his arms around Dean like he'd done the last time to shield Dean, to save him from himself. This time, Dean doesn't fight him. He sinks into Cas' chest, curling in on himself but letting Cas curl in, too.

They sit like that for a time, Dean's breaths quick and shallow to Castiel's forced deep exhales.

 

[When Dean is weak and hurting, Cas will be strong for him because Dean will never fall again without the wings of an angel to bear him up.]

 

“I’m so fucked up,” Dean eventually moans. “It doesn’t even feel like me anymore, like I’m watching from the sidelines.”

“I’m so sorry.” Cas hesitantly brings a hand up to Dean’s head, stroking his hair like Mary had done in the third night Cas had witnessed Dean’s dreams.

When Dean looks up, Cas sees the tear tracks tracing lines down his cheeks. “You said I’ll never burn again, but I’m burning right now. I can feel it, Cas, it’s gonna kill me.”

“We’ll find something,” Cas says, low and desperate. “I won’t let you go.”

He doesn’t notice that his hand is still at the base of Dean’s neck, tangled in hair, until Dean tips forward, until their foreheads are touching and Dean is breathing Cas’ air.

“I know, Cas.” His words tremble along Cas’ lips. “But if I go darkside again, you gotta...you have to stop me. Please.”

Cas doesn’t say anything. He and Dean gaze at each other, too close, never close enough, until Castiel's going cross-eyed and Dean is biting his lip.

"Cas," Dean whispers, and it's a question and an answer in a breath that Castiel greedily swallows for his own. Avarice has never been Castiel's sin, but Dean’s lips may yet change that.

Cas feels, inexplicably, like he's never been kissed before this moment; like every decision he's ever made has led him to this touch; like he is going to flame into being like a match has been dropped on him; like he will never feel anything again unless it's Dean's hands on his face, Dean's warmth on his skin, Dean's everything, Dean is everything.  

 

[And Castiel closes his eyes and soars, and Dean's touch doesn't ground him but takes him higher, closer to the sun and he can't help but remember Icarus, the boy who fell, but all Castiel knows is that if this is flying, then he will take the fall and take it gladly.]

 

Dean is fire and water and loam and wind, his lips fitting against Cas' like a key to its lock. He sighs into Cas' mouth, a deep sound that is his permission to take everything he has to give. Cas leans back onto the bed and Dean follows, draping his body across Cas.

"I am in love with you," Cas says, his hands fitted over Dean's cheekbones, wiping away his tears.

Dean looks away with soft smile. "And here I thought you were a once and done kinda guy."

Cas traces his thumbs over Dean's eyelids, marveling at the flicker of a heartbeat he can feel there, the rhythm that matches his own.

 

[The heartbeat of Castiel's vessel has always been in tune with the heartbeat of Dean, ever since Castiel pulled him out of Hell and began to rebuild his fragmented soul. Castiel has never felt such pain as when Dean stopped breathing, never such relief as when he started once more.]

 

And then Dean leans down, bringing his lips back to Cas and Cas can't keep his hands from roaming, doesn't want to hold anything back. Everywhere he touches Dean, every soft, accidental brush against hidden skin, everything feels like Tuesday mornings and home and Castiel can't get enough.

Dean lets Cas pull off his flannel overshirt, lets him tug the old band tee over his head and drop it to the floor; and he lets Cas watch as his fingers play across trenchcoat and jacket and tie and button-down and skin, finally skin. Dean slides down Castiel's body, pressing kisses to every hill and valley in Cas' skin and Cas feels that he must be vibrating, charged from the worship in Dean's eyes and mouth.

"Is this okay?" Dean asks, his voice low and rumbling. His hands are on Castiel's thighs, his warmth seeping through the dark trousers.

Cas nods so fast he worries Dean didn’t see it, but then Dean is smiling and undoing Castiel's belt. Every movement of Dean’s hands brushes against him, arousing him further and further. By the time Dean has him out of his old white underwear, Cas is nearly panting, his hands twisted in the sheets beside him.

Dean leans back. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

As soon as he realises Dean isn't joking, Cas sits upright. "I’ve always wanted this, Dean. If you're no longer ... interested," Castiel swallows, his chest tightening, "Please. Go."

Dean shakes his head, placing a hand on Cas' ankle to steady himself. "I'm interested, believe me." His grip tightens. "I just...are you sure you wanna mess around with a half demon? I don't want to rust your halo or anything."  Dean's lips curve up in a mockery of a smile at that.

Cas reaches out to Dean and lays his hand along the faint outline of where it had Marked, all those years ago. Cain has laid claim to Dean as well, Castiel knows, but Dean belonged to Castiel first and no blade can stand against the bright light of Cas' devotion.

 

[Castiel had always thought it strange that this civilization chose the color of blood, of war haze, to represent love and the celebration of Saint Valentine; but then he found Dean and he realised there could be nothing more fitting.]

 

"I will love you for aeons, Dean, no matter what. You cannot tarnish me."

Dean's hand becomes gentle on Cas' ankle, rubbing circles into the skin there as he bends forward to kiss up Castiel's leg.

"You sure?" He asks, his lips quirked into a crooked grin against Castiel’s hip.

Cas responds with a groan.

When Dean takes him in his mouth, Castiel arches off the bed, his wings unfolding around him. Dean can’t hear them, of course, and he can’t feel them, but while Cas is gripping the sheets, his wings are skating along Dean’s back, encircling him in faint Grace.

“You’re so beautiful,” Castiel gasps as Dean takes his mouth off of Castiel.

Dean’s smile in return has Cas straining for him and he tugs Dean back on top of him, blanketing him in skin and jeans.

The taste of himself is strange on Dean’s lips, but Cas thinks he likes it, likes feeling that he is more than just the molecules that he is made of.

Dean doesn’t resist when Cas struggles with his jeans. The shimmy he shakes when he finally kicks them off has Cas smiling, thinking of past dancing days.

“What now, tree-topper? What’re you gonna do now that you’ve got me down to my skivvies?”

“I’m going to love you.”

Dean blinks. “Hard?”

“I’m going to love you in every single way you can imagine.”

Castiel presses kisses to every square inch of Dean’s body, from the bones of his ankles to the freckles on his eyelids. He smooths his fingers along the wrinkles around Dean’s eyes, the subtle extra weight around Dean’s stomach; traces the curve of his ears and the ticklishness of his belly button. And when that is done, when Dean is trembling beneath Castiel, he takes the bottle Dean hands him and slides a finger inside Dean.

 

[Castiel has built Dean up from nothing but a soul but there is something inherently more intimate about loving him like this, about being inside and outside and _together_.]

 

Castiel kisses Dean through the discomfort, until he has two fingers inside that can send Dean soaring with just a bend. Soft noises are escaping Dean, breathy and full and Castiel feels like he could watch Dean fall apart for the rest of his existence.

“C’mon,” Dean manages, “Fuck me.”

“I’m not going to fuck you, Dean. I’m going to make love to you.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but the way he inhales when Castiel crooks his fingers again gives him away. Castiel adds one more finger to be safe before he pulls out and rolls on the condom that Dean passes to him.

Castiel has never been inside another man, but he thinks that even if he had, it wouldn’t compare to how he feels inside Dean right now. He’s loath to move too soon, to hurt Dean, but his eternal patience has apparently become irrelevant. He uses a miniscule amount of Grace to open Dean up, to soothe him from any pain. Dean notices - Dean always notices when Cas uses Grace on him - but he doesn’t remark upon it, only smiles as Castiel begins to move.

The rhythm Cas sets changes frequently, from fast to slow, hard to soft, deep to shallow, and soon Dean is gasping his name with every thrust.

When Cas can feel lights rising up behind his eyes, he begins to stroke up and down Dean’s length, pulling him to teeter on the precipice beside him. And then, with a muffled shout, Dean tightens around Cas and spills between their stomachs. Cas is gone in another two heartbeats, his entire world painted black and white except for Dean, lying beneath him, splayed out in vivid technicolor, his chest rising up and down rapidly. Cas pulls out and flops to the side, his eyes heavy, his heart light, and his wings both lead and helium at the same time.

 

[And if they had met in ancient Rome or in the trenches of the Great War, in a kingdom of knights or in a college dorm room, Castiel knows that he would love Dean and love him well.]

 

“No one’s done that for me in a long time,” Dean says finally, after they’ve both cleaned up. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Cas whispers, a smile growing on his face.

They stare at each other in silence for a time, Dean glowing against the white sheets of his bed.

“Do you want to stay?” Dean asks abruptly. “Here? With me?”

“Tonight?” Castiel asks, his smile slipping.

“For a while. For as long as you want.”

“I’ll always want to stay, Dean.”

“So you will?”

“Of course.”

And Castiel lets Dean into his arms, lets Dean twine their fingers and legs together.

And Dean lets him stay.

...

Castiel sleeps that night, and he wakes up the next morning to Dean’s voice, sweeter than he’s ever heard it.

_“Love me tender, love me true, all my dreams fulfilled. For my darling, I love you, and I always will.”_

Dean quiets as soon as he notices Castiel blinking awake.

“Love me tender?” Cas asks, blearily.

Dean shrugs. “He’s the king of rock and roll.”

Cas doesn’t point out that this particular song is neither rock nor roll, and instead smiles.

_“Love me tender, love me dear, tell me you are mine. I'll be yours through all the years, till the end of time.”_

**Author's Note:**

> because Elvis is the king and I'm having terrible presley feels.  
> [title: can't help falling in love; summary: don't be cruel; first song: blue suede shoes; last song: love me tender]  
> not my usual style but, hey, try something tuesday!  
> stay classy, san diego, & a very happy new year to all y'all.


End file.
